


dear tubbo (let's never meet again)

by acumirklis



Series: oneshots [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, References to Addiction, Regret, stay safe, why do i keep writing impulsively
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acumirklis/pseuds/acumirklis
Summary: What would you say, if you got one last chance to talk?Who would you go out and find?Would you thank that someone, or would you beg for their forgiveness?
Relationships: Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Series: oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122416
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	dear tubbo (let's never meet again)

**Author's Note:**

> here i am again, with yet another random oneshot i wrote instead of having a healthy sleep schedule. sue me, i was heavily inspired after thinking about tubbo and schlatt and their relationship.
> 
> this is also probably the first and last time i write something from first person pov, but this was basically a long monologue so there was no way around it.
> 
> mind you; this is also barely edited, hopefully it's not too bad. i am too tired to do much work on it haha, so here is the raw chaos i have written on impulse.
> 
> i hope you enjoy regardless, stay healthy and stay safe, kind stranger <3
> 
> TW; look at the tags, take care!! <3

I'm sorry.

Fuck, I am so fucking sorry.

It's cold here, you know? I don't think I've ever felt this cold. It's so empty, too. Everywhere I look, there is nothing but my own reflection. I hate seeing it, it's not me, no. I don't look like that. It's not me. Everything is blurred, my fingers burn when I touch the glass.

Tell me, do you remember? The few smiles I sent your way? Do you have that memory, do you treasure it? Please, I need to know. Why can't you tell me?

I've always wanted to be alone; I was never meant to be a father. It's not for me, not my true calling. I am selfish, I am a bastard, I know that you know. Do you wish I was different? Of course, you do. I wish I was different, too. But I couldn’t change, I kept falling back into those habits.

I still remember your eyes; the tear stains, the swelling, how your blue eyes stood out sharply in contrast to your bloodshot eyes. I still remember the look you gave me, God, you looked so heartbroken. And I just left you. I didn't look at you again, I didn't want to know how much you were hurting. It's easier to run away, isn't it? I hope you forgive me. Please, don't ever forgive me. I am horrible. You deserve to hate me. But oh, I want you to forgive me.

I heard your cries, every last one of them. I didn't care. Sometimes, I hear your sobs echo through the empty halls of the place, they follow me wherever I try to run, they get louder the tighter I shut my ears. It echoes through my head, my bones, my veins. I am an embodiment of your despair; I can't bear it, but I deserve it. Forgive me, please forgive me.

You never asked for anything, you never did anything. I did, all of it. You were a kid, and I was a devil. That's what I am, right? I can't be human; humans aren't this cruel.

I felt nothing at the time. I didn't care. I heard your cries and they became numb to me, I was deaf to them, they lost their meaning. They never had one in the first place. I think at some point you sounded like the wind passing through the leaves, at some point you sounded like you were quiet.

But you weren't; I heard it. Yet you never came to me. I know you wanted me to come, I could feel you waiting, I saw you passed out by that door. I did not even give you a blanket, I didn't carry you to bed, I didn’t tuck you in. I left you on the cold floor, I couldn't bear touch you when the guilt would burn me alive.

Say, do you remember it all? Do you see me in your dreams, do I ever pass your thoughts?

I think about you all the time. You are the only thought I am able to form, it is torture, I deserve it.

My time with you is replayed, over and over again. I see you everywhere I go, I hear you everywhere I rest, I sense you _everywhere_. You're everywhere. I am nowhere for you.

But I deserve it, please, I hope you hate me. I hope you loathe me. I want you to curse at me, to spit on my grave, I want you to forget my face so you can be at peace with yourself. We look similar; yet I don't see a single bit of myself in you.

I was never around, though, was I? I don't deserve to be recognized as your father; I don't even deserve to think of that word.

Father. That I was. But I wasn't. I'm not. I'll never be.

God, your sobs, they are acid in my ears. It hurts so much, fuck, I can't bear it. You were so young, so young and I shall suffer for the rest of eternity for it. I deserve it.

I wish you'd been older; I wish you'd ran away when you could. I wish you'd taken the liquor and thrown it out. I wish you'd slapped some sense into me, I wish you'd screamed so loud I'd have finally snapped awake. But no, no. You were a kid. So innocent. I tainted you. Do you forever reek of alcohol, too?

I left you, so many times. I slept at peace with myself at night, drunk beyond recognition, I hadn't even checked if you'd been in bed. I never knew if you were home. I wish you'd ran away, even as young as you used to be. Maybe someone good could have picked you up. Someone deserving to be a father.

I hated life. I hate life. I hate myself.

I hate my legacy; I hate everything I used to be.

I want to fix it, fix myself. Fuck, you can't fix the past, why can't I fix the past?!

I want to see you laugh, I want to see your eyes sparkle with joy, I never got to see that, it hurts hurts _HURTS_ , I never fucking got to see you happy. You were a kid, God fucking damn it, why weren't you happy?!

I'm sorry. Shit, I'm so sorry. I should have never lashed out; I should have never lost control.

I left you, I hated you, I refused to see you for who you were.

My son.

Those words, sometimes they carve themselves into my skin. I never see it, but I feel it. They're there, all over my body. Fresh cuts, they all scream your name. I want them gone; I don't deserve them gone.

You deserve me gone. I am, are you finally happy?

That night, I heard your pleas. I heard the agony in your screams. I didn't care, I was angry. You'd done something, surely it was justified.

You were just a kid.

How did you comfort yourself? How did you treat your wounds? Grown men would pass out from beatings like that, you only ever quieted down.

You accepted it; I broke you.

Fuck, I broke you forever, didn't I?

I want to scream, oh, I want to beg.

On my knees I should fall, in front of you, hands clasped together in a motion of prayer, and beg and beg and _beg_ until you would beat me, beat me like I deserve it, like I did to you. That is the forgiveness I want; I want you to hate me more than the pain I’ve caused you.

Your heart is so pure, Tubbo. So pure. I see the care you carry within yourself, where did you learn that?

Phil, oh, it must have been him.

He is your father, Tubbo, the father I could never be.

He saw your tears, he wiped them away. He heard you cry, he held you in his arms. He saw you flinch, and he told you he'd never do what I did. You believed him, you believed him but I know you never fully did. I tainted you, I broke you, I made you into myself. I hate myself; I don't hate you; I never did.

I gave you away, I did it because deep down, I was scared you'd not start talking again after I lashed out. I was terrified you'd not stand up and limp to your room. I didn't trust myself; so, I threw you away.

Like a useless cloth, like you meant nothing to me. I put you in a box like an old item, I left you on the side of the street, I drove away without any remorse.

I placed you into the hands of faith; I hadn't seen her in so long. I hoped she would take kindly to you; I hope she gave you what she could never give me.

The house was always quiet, the nightmares were louder than my own screams. I didn't care, I didn't want to know where you were.

You were not my son; you were nothing to me. If I told myself that often enough, you'd eventually cease to exist. You didn’t.

Your shelves collected a layer of dust, your room became more and more dull every day. I knew, because I checked. I sat and watched. I sat and drowned the regret with yet another glass. I spent most of my days in your room after you’d left. I spent more time there than I ever did with you.

I hoped it would kill me, the addiction, I hoped it would kill me in your room. I wanted it to end where it had all begun, where it had always escalated. I wanted to be in pain, for you, and only you. I wanted you to feel that I was in agony.

I am so fucking sorry Tubbo, for everything. You're my son, God, I love you. I want you to be happy, I want to see you smile, fuck, why am I so selfish?

I could have had this; I could have had what Phil now has. I could have held you; I could have comforted you, made you laugh. I don't think I've ever heard the sound of your laugh. I am jealous of Phil, I have no right to be, yet it’s like a storm wreaking havoc in my chest whenever I see him and notice everything in those kind features of his that I could have never been.

I have nothing, nothing but time at my hands. Endless. I could do anything I ever dreamt of; there is no border keeping me from doing so.

Except myself. Because I can't. I can't leave you, fuck, I am sorry, I am so selfish. I should leave you, never see you again, and hope that you forget me, that one day you'll wake up and realize that the last memory of the pain has ebbed and the bleeding has stopped. I want you to cover the scars and never look at them again. I want you to let go.

Please, my Tubbo, my son, let me go. I know you haven't.

You're scared, scared to become like me. I am, too, but I know you won't. You might have been my son, but I was never your father. Don't give me the title, don't give me something so meaningful when I don't deserve it.

Let me go. Let me go so you can be free. Give me your pain and let me burn, maybe I can finally warm you.

Death taught me more than life ever could. I had to die to know I loved you, I had to live to fuck everything up.

It is cruel, death; it shows you your faults, you realize and regret, but there is nothing you can do anymore, you’ve used up your last chance.

Even now, as I sit beside you, your head buried in the knees you're tightly clutching together with your arms, your frail body shivering from the icy breeze, I can't reach out. I lost my right to a long time ago.

Tubbo, oh, my poor, poor son. Don't mourn the death of a monster, celebrate the relief his passing gave the world. Celebrate each new sunrise without him, without me.

Why are you here, by my grave? Decades after I broke you?

Am I this evil, am I still holding you back? Please, fuck, please tell me it doesn't hurt as much as it used to anymore.

Give me all your pain, I'll gladly take it. I want you to be free, son, so free you could fly.

Shit, if I had one last chance, I'd take you into my arms, I'd hold you, and I'd apologize until my voice shattered and I could never use it again. I’d want my last words to be one final apology to you. I'd pray, for the first time in years, I'd pray to whatever God I could just so you could feel less of me, less of this.

You don't deserve this, Tubbo. They love you, you know? Your father, your brothers? They love you, they protect you, and I have forever attached myself to your weeping soul. I have beaten you down until you've become a shell of what you could have been.

And yet, you're still amazing. You're admirable. You're brilliant. God, how did I ever deserve you?

I am so proud of you, Tubbo. I have never felt prouder, and I never will.

I see you, and I see everything I am not, and I am happy.

I am happy, because it means you will be able to let me go.

I look forward to the weeds consuming my tombstone until you cannot read my name anymore, I look forward to the candle fully burning out, I look forward to the trail that will slowly start to overgrow with grass again until there is no trace of it left anymore.

I look forward to the day where you never come back.

Because that is what you deserve, Tubbo. You deserve peace.

They say the dead may rest in peace, but shouldn't that apply to the living, as well?

I don't deserve peace; I don't deserve to rest when I can hear your sobs to this day. When I beat you even as my body is six feet underground.

Please, Tubbo, just leave. Leave, and never come back. Don't waste your time on someone who never bothered to spend it with you.

I want to put my hand on your shoulder, but I can't. You'll burn me, and you won't feel a thing.

I am glad you can't see me; I am glad you think I don't exist anymore. Maybe that makes it easier for you.

Your eyes, they're still as guarded as I remember them to be, now that I look at you. I see the tears, and they radiate the heat of lava to me. God, Tubbo, I am glad I don't see the fragments of your broken spirit anymore. I'm glad to see it back together, gold connecting the shattered parts, I am glad to see you are healing.

Please heal, please never come back. I want you to be happy, I want you to forget me.

Finally, you're standing up, the tree must not be very comfortable.

You're so much taller now; your face is no longer child-like. You never looked like a child in the first place. It is my fault.

Oh please, it takes all of me not to scream after you as you leave, it takes all of me not to plead to come back alive again just to tell you all of what I've realized, all of what I've been doomed to suffer with alone.

I hope this is the last time I see you. For your sake.

I'm sorry.

Fuck, I am so fucking sorry.

I love you, Tubbo.

I am proud of you.


End file.
